


Gone Fishing

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: trope_bingo, Crossover, Gen, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During 'Space Fall', Blake, Avon and Jenna wind up on a different advanced alien spaceship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> I ripped a lot of dialogue out of 'Space Fall' (and 'Cygnus Alpha').

This is how it happened. 

“Listen to me,” Avon sneered. “Wealth is the only reality. And the only way to obtain wealth is to take it away from somebody else. Wake up, Blake! You may not be tranquilised any longer, but you're still dreaming.”

“Maybe some dreams are worth having,” Jenna retorted.

“You don't really believe that.”

“No,” Jenna said, “but I'd like to.”

“Yes,” Blake said, “well-” but he was drowned out by a strange wheezing, groaning sound.

Avon backed away as a large blue box appeared gradually in the space he’d been standing in earlier. “What the hell is that?” he demanded. 

Blake shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“Police public call box,” Jenna read aloud from the sign above the door. “Some sort of prisoner control perhaps?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Blake said, moving Avon aside to approach the box. “I don’t think it’s dangerous.”

“You’ve just admitted you have no idea what it is,” Avon reminded him. “All we know is that it is able to teleport, which means it is like nothing we have ever seen before. Why shouldn’t it be dangerous? It could be a bomb for all you know.”

Blake raised his eyebrows. “A bomb with a door?” 

“Well, perhaps not a bomb,” Avon allowed. “But that doesn’t mean-”

 _“Blake?”_ the communicator barked in the voice of the unpleasant Commander Raiker. _“Blake, switch on your vision panel.”_

Avon and Jenna turned instinctively towards where the voice was coming from and then back to Blake to see what he would do. 

Blake did nothing because he wasn’t there any more. 

_“Blake?”_ Jenna asked the empty room. “Blake, where are you?”

“Well,” Avon said, “at least it will only be the two of us getting shot for mutiny. I hope that's some comfort to you, Jenna.”

“Not especially.”

“No,” Avon said. “It isn’t to me, either.”

The door of the blue box opened and Blake grinned at them from inside. “It’s not a bomb,” he said. “Come and take a look.”

“I don’t like confined spaces,” Avon said. “Especially not confined spaces mostly full of idealistic idiot.”

“Somehow I don’t think _space_ will be a problem,” Blake said. “Come on, Jenna. You’ll want to see this.” 

He stepped back to allow her through the door and beamed as she gasped in amazement. 

“What?” Avon said from outside. “What is it? _Blake?”_

 _“Blake,”_ the communicator barked again. _“You must answer.”_

Beyond the door there was a large, white room. The walls were covered in strange roundels, broken up only by a screen and two doors, one of which was the one they’d come in from. In the centre of the room there was a large console covered in buttons and levers, and, strangely, over by the main door, there was a hat stand.

“It’s a ship,” Jenna said wonderingly, more to herself than to Avon or Blake.

“Yes, I think so, too,” Blake said. “Do you think you can pilot it?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Jenna said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. I only think it’s a ship because... it told me it was.” She ran her hand over a row of buttons and then shook her head. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does,” Avon said, approaching the console. 

“You took your time,” Blake said. 

Avon ignored him and tapped the console. “This is a machine. More than that, it is a machine composed entirely from block-transfer computations. I don’t know how they’ve done it, but this box, this entire room, is built from pure mathematics. And numbers and machines do not talk back.” He smiled. “That could be why I like them.” There was a crackle of electricity from the console and Avon pulled his hand away from it with an annoyed intake of breath. 

Jenna grinned. “I don’t think it likes _you.”_

"There's no accounting for taste."

“You’ve got two minutes to find out how it works,” Blake told Jenna. “Then we leave. Help her, Avon.”

“Where are you going?” Avon asked as Blake strode towards the door that was still open out onto the London. 

“To tell _them_ that,” Blake said and stepped outside. 

The computer room was only half the size of the room inside the box and he crossed to the communicator panel quickly. 

“This is Blake,” he said. 

_“About time,”_ Raiker told him. _“Switch on your vision panel.”_

“No, I don’t think so,” Blake said. “And there’s no need to do anything unpleasant to the other prisoners, either. I’m setting the door to this room to open in one minute’s time. You can have the run of the place for all I care.”

“You’re surrendering, then?”

“Not exactly,” Blake said with a smile and cut off communication. He returned to the box and the door shut behind him. “ _Now,_ Jenna.”

Jenna breathed in deeply. “Here goes,” she said and pulled a lever. 

The whole room lurched. Blake lost his footing and so did Avon, who staggered back into him. They exchanged irritated glances as Blake pulled himself to his feet using the hat stand. 

“Sorry!” Jenna called over the wheezing, groaning sound and the shuddering of the walls. “I should have said we were in for a rocky flight.” 

“Yes, you should have done,” Avon said bitterly.

“It’s all right,” Blake said. “Just do your best to land us somewhere.”

“I can try,” Jenna said, “but take-off is always easier than landing. More so, I’d imagine, with a ship that can teleport. I assume we don’t want to end up in the middle of a planet.”

“No,” Blake said, frowning.

“I... may be able to help,” Avon said, taking his own grip on the shaking console. “Before I decided to put my talents to more profitable use, I handled the computer analysis for a research project into matter transmission.”

“Yes,” Blake said, “I worked on the project, too.” He paused. “Do you think the same principals apply here? You said yourself, this ship is built out of pure computations, not Aquatar.”

“True,” Avon said, “but I see no reason that the directional facility would have altered. If I’m right, I should be able to help with the course corrections. Assuming,” he said, eyeing the console warily, “the ship will let me.”

“I think it will,” Jenna said after a moment’s thought. “It was just trying to teach you a lesson earlier. Take those controls, there, opposite me. And Blake-”

“I was in engineering,” Blake said. “The idea was that we built it and let other people work out how to use it. I... don’t think I can help.”

“You mean there was a part of your life you didn’t have to have ultimate control over?” Avon asked. “I’m amazed. Who was your career councillor?”

“The job was assigned to me after my memory-erasure,” Blake told him flatly.

“That... would explain it,” Avon said, managing to look simultaneously annoyed and guilty. 

“Do you think you can stop the ship shaking us apart, Blake?” Jenna said, leaning around the central column to look at him. 

“Possibly,” Blake said. 

“How reassuring,” Avon said. 

“I think it must be these controls here,” Blake said and reached out for the space in between Jenna and Avon. As soon as his fingers touched the console, the shaking stopped and a deep voice from behind him boomed,

“Roj Blake! My dear fellow, how are you?”

“Blake,” Jenna said, looking up at the screen where an eccentrically dressed man with curly hair was beaming down at them, “who is that?”

“I can’t tell you how marvellous it is that you’re here.”

“A cousin of yours perhaps?” Avon suggested. 

“I only have one cousin,” Blake said, “and I don’t think that’s her, although I have been away a long time. I've never seen this man before in my life.”

“Well, he seems knows you,” Jenna said. 

“And these charming people,” the man on the screen continued, “must be Kerr Avon and Jenna Stannis. Delighted, of course.”

“And he seems to know _us,_ ” Avon said. 

“How do you do? I’m the Doctor. I would shake your hand but,” he held up a fishing rod and bucket as though this were the problem rather than the fact he was a projected image, “I’m afraid I don’t have one free.” He grinned. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Blake.” 

“What is?” Blake said. 

“I’m sorry?” the Doctor asked, cupping his ear with the bucket. “Did you say something?”

“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Blake repeated. 

“No, it’s no good. I can’t hear you,” the Doctor said. “You see I’m only a recorded message. The real me is off on a fishing holiday, thus the rod and bucket. It shouldn’t be a very long one – only fifty years or so – but the TARDIS got rather annoyed when I told her I wasn’t going to be around for half a century.” 

“The TARDIS?” Avon asked. 

Blake shrugged. “That must be the name of the ship.” 

“She likes adventures, you see,” the Doctor said. “Revolutions, rebellions – that sort of thing. Well, who doesn’t?”

“Would you like a list?” Avon asked. 

“If I wasn’t already signed up for this fishing holiday, I’d come with you,” the Doctor said. “As it is, I’m leaving the TARDIS to you until I get back. She’s a good ship, my old girl – she’ll take you anywhere you want to go in the universe, if you ask nicely. Not necessarily _when_ you want to go there, but nobody’s perfect, not even me. There is a flight manual somewhere, but I just make it up as I go along. I’m sure you’ll be fine, especially if you get a few more people.” He grinned a toothy grin and waggled his fingers, “Have a nice rebellion.” And then the screen went dark. 

“I don’t recall signing up for a rebellion, Blake,” Avon said.

“He’s the one who said it,” Blake said mildly.

“But it is what you’re planning, isn’t it?”

“Possibly.”

_“Blake-”_

“Jenna, what course have you set?” Blake said, ignoring him. 

“Name it,” Jenna said, as Avon scowled. “We're free. We've got a ship. We can go anywhere we like.”

Blake considered. “The Doctor said we needed more people,” he said, removing the edge of his finger from his mouth. He pointed at the console. “Six sides. It must need six people to fly it properly! Jenna has the main control edge, Avon has navigation and I can handle maintenance. That leaves three sides empty.”

“And where exactly do you expect to find three more idiots willing to risk their lives for you?” Avon asked.

“Follow the London to Cygnus Alpha,” Blake said decisively. “Then we can free the rest of the prisoners.” He turned to Avon. “With a ship like this and a full crew, then we can start fighting back.”

“And what if I refuse to help?” Avon said. “You need me to land the ship.” 

“Do we?” Jenna asked. “The Doctor said there was a manual.” She smiled. “And I’m a fast reader.”

“You can leave whenever you like,” Blake said, “I won’t stop you. But you’ve seen this place, Avon! Don’t you want to find out what this ship is capable of?”

“It has a teleport facility,” Avon said after a brief pause. “That is interesting, but I’m sure the Federation will eventually develop something similar. I’m afraid I will need a better reason than that if I am to stay, Blake.”

“By the way,” the Doctor said, reappearing on the screen behind him again, “did I mention, it also travels in time?”

Blake turned to look at Avon. Jenna fought a grin. 

“So,” Avon said, pressing various buttons on the console, “Cygnus Alpha?”

Blake clapped him on the back, Jenna pulled the dematerialisation lever, and the TARDIS span off into the vortex.

**Author's Note:**

> Short little sequel here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914728/chapters/26924241


End file.
